


which one do i love more

by seventhstar



Series: love's like a runway [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Project Runway Fusion, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, Fashion & Couture, Fashion Designer Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Modeling, More Yuuri In A Dress Content From Me, Sensual Lipstick Application, Shocking I know, mayo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-02 19:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16311350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: In which Viktor is both Yuuri's muse and his model, Yuuri wears a dress, and Yuri!!! On Ice makes its debut.[Yuri!!! On Runway collection]





	1. day one: fashion stylists

**Author's Note:**

> y'all wanted yuuri's gay collection so i got you

 

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“Because we can hire real models. There’s still time.”

“Oh?” Viktor asks. He pauses, fluffy brush held an inch from Yuuri’s face. The brush is made of mink. Yuuri still feels vaguely threatened. “Am I not a real model?”

“Uh—”

“Is there something _wrong_ with the way I look?”

“You know there isn’t,” Yuuri mutters. “You’re basically a perfect person. I look like a potato.”

“A sexy potato,” Viktor says firmly. He finishes applying powder to Yuuri’s face. “No touching your face, all right?”

“Do I need all this makeup?”

“The camera is very unforgiving. Especially in HD.”

“Well, okay…”

“Shh.” Viktor puts a finger to Yuuri’s lap. “No talking now, I have to do your lips.”

Yuuri takes a moment to be extremely disappointed that Viktor isn’t talking about blowjobs—unlike modeling, sucking dick is a skill Yuuri actually has—before he stills himself. The last thing he needs is to end up with lipstick all over his face. He doesn’t have the fortitude to be made up twice, and not just because Viktor rubbing moisturizer into his face had turned out to be suspiciously like a very torturous kind of foreplay.

Viktor starts with lip primer, which Yuuri is half-convinced is just lip balm with a fancy name to justify making it pricier (or maybe not, he’s seen how much Viktor’s lip balm costs.) He then picks up a lip liner. Yuuri’s really hoping it’ll be an unobtrusive pink, but no, it’s bright red.

“Uh, Vitya—”

“Stop moving your mouth.”

Yuuri stops moving his mouth. Viktor carefully edges his lips in red, then starts filling them in, which is not how lip liner is supposed to work, but what does Yuuri know? Yuuri hates being on camera. Yuuri has trouble watching the episodes of Project Runway he was in. Unlike _some_ people, he has not been repeatedly photographed mostly undressed to sell people cologne and alcohol with the power of his pectorals. Unlike some people, Yuuri has never been on a "Top Ten Hottest Athletes" list multiple times.

 _At least my boyfriend is hot,_ Yuuri thinks. _If my career as a designer goes horribly wrong and I have to become a hermit, I can hide out in the wilds of Russia somewhere and Viktor can visit me and comfort me. With his dick._

“You’re making a face.”

“I’m thinking about sex.”

“Save it for the camera.”

Once he’s satisfied with the liner, Viktor reaches for a lipstick. The lipstick is also scarlet, and shiny, and it smells like lemon and wax. Viktor sighs.

“This is my favorite,” he says, “and if you move while I’m putting it on and damage it, I’ll die.”

Yuuri nods.

It takes Viktor a very long time to apply the lipstick, in soft strokes over Yuuri’s lips, his hand on the back of Yuuri’s head to hold him steady. Yuuri can smell the lemon, but he can also smell Viktor’s cologne, and he can see the tiny birthmark on Viktor’s right ear, and he is very, very aware that he could lean in and kiss Viktor if he wanted.

When Viktor is done with the lipstick, he takes out another tube with clear stuff in it.

“What’s that?”

“Glue.”

“What?”

“Shh.” Viktor dabs a little of the glue onto his index finger with the applicator. “It’s for the glitter.” He pats it all over Yuuri’s lips, and then uses another whisper-soft brush to dust glitter on top of Yuuri’s lips. He’s pretty sure he looks like a very shiny clown now, and that’s bad, because a little glitter has ended up on Viktor’s face and Yuuri wants to lick it off. He realizes glitter isn’t edible. The animal part of his brain has not gotten the memo.

“There. Perfect. Ready to see?”

Yuuri is not, but Viktor obviously really wants him to. “Yeah.”

Viktor picks up the hand mirror and holds it up.

 _It doesn’t look anything like me,_ is Yuuri’s first thought, but then he looks again and is astonished to find that it does. It looks mostly like him, but with longer lashes and more intense bone structure and red lips. He…actually looks kind of hot. _I’ll never doubt Viktor again._

“I like it.”

“You’re stunning,” Viktor says dreamily. “I guess it’s my turn now…”

Yuuri is suddenly deeply disappointed that he can’t sensually apply Viktor’s lipstick for him.

“After you get made up come help me,” Yuuri says. “I can’t get into the dress on my own.”

Yuuri could totally get into the dress on his own. But if Viktor does it, Yuuri can keep his eyes closed.


	2. day two: costumes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't @ me about the mayo

The Dress is the plague of Yuuri’s existence.

Yuuri’s been working on this stupid dress for so long that he feels a kinship with it, the way hunters in the jungle must feel a kinship with the big cats that try to kill them. He’s pretty sure the scars, both physical and psychological, will never fade. He’s even given it a name: Eros.

Eros is black, with red lining. The slit goes all the way up. The sleeves are long, fitted. Yuuri handsewed the crystals, Swarovski, and spent hours carefully piecing together the mesh panels so that the seams would be near invisible. The only thing that’s left is to fit it to a model, since, unfortunately, Yuuri’s been using himself while he was designing.

Viktor insists that Yuuri wear the gown, but Yuuri figures that once Viktor actually sees Yuuri in the gown, he will agree that just because Viktor wants to bang him doesn’t mean Yuuri should be using himself to sell this gown to other people. That’s ridiculous.

He closes his eyes as Viktor helps him step into the gown, drawing it up his body, zipping it closed with agonizing slowness. Viktor’s breath is warm against his cheek as he turns Yuuri carefully around.

Yuuri keeps his eyes closed.

“Yuuuuri.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Viktor says. “You look ravishing, I promise.”

“You always say that. Even last week when you caught me with the mayo jar.”

“If you look, you can do that thing with the mayo to me.”

Yuuri bites his lip. Viktor is evil. He _knows_ how Yuuri feels about mayo.

“Fine.”

_Is that me?_

The man in the mirror doesn’t look like Yuuri. The man in the mirror looks like he consumes the souls of his dead lovers after he’s fucked them to death, but they fall into bed with him anyways, because he’s worth it. The man in the mirror looks like he belongs at Viktor’s side.

“Wow.”

“Amazing,” Viktor agrees. “Didn’t I tell you? You’re the only one in the world who can bring out this gown’s essence.”

“We look good together,” Yuuri says. He sounds dazed. Viktor is wearing the red suit he’d liked so much; the color makes his eyes bluer. “Can you help me pick out some shoes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are appreciated! starting in november i'm going to be shifting my focus to my neglected WIPs, so feel free to make requests :)


	3. day three: footwear

“Why are all your shoes terrible?”

“I like those shoes.”

Viktor looks scathingly at him. He holds up a pair of Yuuri’s more battered sneakers. “There are holes in these.”

“That’s _one,”_ Yuuri says. “One pair. With one hole. Come on.”

“That’s one too many.” Viktor digs through the cardboard box of shoes Yuuri’s brought up from his apartment. At the bottom there is a gleaming black shoebox, the logo on top in gold leaf. Yuuri gulps as Viktor unearths it and holds it up to the light; he was really hoping to avoid showing Viktor these. He should have hidden them in the freezer or something. “What’s this?”

“Uh…that was…a gift. An ugly gift. With holes in it.”

“Really.”

“Yeah.”

Viktor just looks at him. Yuuri is wearing a gown and lipstick and has probably never looked better in his fucking life, but he still kind of flinches.

“Are these Louboutins?”

“…no?” Yuuri sighs. “Maybe? I didn’t actually open them.”

“Why?”

“Because the card said ‘congratulations on your success’ and I haven’t actually succeeded?”

“Yuuri. You won Project Runway.”

“Lots of people win Project Runway and then crash and burn,” Yuuri points out.

Viktor thrusts the box at him. “Put them on,” he says. “Think of it as a favor you’re doing me.”

“I can’t bend over, I’ll wrinkle the gown.”

“Oh, no.” Viktor mock-swoons. “If only there were someone here to help you.”

There are moments when Yuuri seriously questions his decision to date Viktor, who has a near-supernatural ability to convince Yuuri to do things. It’s like one part Viktor being an asshole, one part him having the voice of a siren and the eyes of that snake from The Jungle Book. He sighs and sticks his leg out.

Inside the box are a pair of heels. They’re black, the inside of the heel scarlet like the gown’s lining, the tip of each stiletto silver. Yuuri eyes them, trying to gauge the size, wondering if he can pretend they don’t fit to avoid having to wear them. Yuuri is not big on his feet and only the deepest of affection for Viktor has convinced him to so much as wear sandals in public.

Viktor gently slips his fingers under Yuuri’s foot, cradling his heel against his palm. His fingers are warm. He puts on the heel so slowly, easing him into it, and then sets Yuuri’s foot down. Shockingly, the shoes fit and are comfortable. Yuuri hates his life. Viktor licks his lips as he puts the other shoe on.

“I want you to step on me.”

“That’s weird.”

“Mayo.”

“…fair.”

“Are we ready?” Viktor asks.

Yuuri tries to marshal his words—he’s just noticed Viktor’s lashes are heavy with mascara and is distracted as hell—before he nods. Viktor stands up.

In heels, Yuuri is taller than he is. He can see the top of Viktor’s head; without thinking he prods the whorl in the center of Viktor’s scalp.

“Is it getting that thin?” Viktor asks. He looks balefully at Yuuri.

Yuuri nearly kills himself tripping as he tries to scramble away. “No! It’s thick and shiny!”

“Am I too old to be your model, Yuuri? Am I too decrepit? Should I just roll over and die?”

“No! No! Your hair is just soft!” Yuuri seizes Viktor’s wrist, being careful not to wrinkle his sleeve. “The photographer is waiting, let’s just go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to skip days 4 and 5, and I have to reverse days six and seven because otherwise the fic won't be in chronological order, so I'll be back at the end of the week!


End file.
